


Close Your Eyes

by ilookedback



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Other, gender neutral reader, mention of a gun but no violence, soft!Javi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilookedback/pseuds/ilookedback
Summary: His voice registers, sleep-deepened and familiar, and then his scent, warm skin and faded tobacco, and finally you register that the broad hands holding you arehisand you turn and burrow into his bare chest, breathing him in in little gasping breaths as you try to get your heart rate under control.“Honey,” he murmurs. You feel his hands run down your back, soothing and slow. “Hey, shh, you’re okay.”(in which reader awakens from a nightmare and Javi comforts them)
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65





	Close Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So unbetaed that I only noticed I used the word "register" twice in one sentence when I went to add the summary just now, lmao. I already posted it on tumblr so I'm not changing it now! This little fic is for a friend who's been having nightmares and asked for something with Javi providing comfort. <3

The man in your dream is always the same—you can’t see him well in the darkness but you can sense his presence, a noise in the hallway and then his dark, lurking figure at the foot of the bed. Every time, you try to scream and your throat feels like it’s blocked closed. You’re frozen in place, forced to lie still as you wait for him to reach you.

There are hands on you, a weight on your chest and fingers wrapped around your arm, and when you try to scream again this time it tears out of you, loud and terrified, and the hands shift, the body attached to them tensing against you.

“ _Jesus_ , baby, what’s—”

His voice registers, sleep-deepened and familiar, and then his scent, warm skin and faded tobacco, and finally you register that the broad hands holding you are _his_ and you turn and burrow into his bare chest, breathing him in in little gasping breaths as you try to get your heart rate under control.

“Honey,” he murmurs. You feel his hands run down your back, soothing and slow. “Hey, shh, you’re okay.”

“There was—” you choke out. It’s childish, but you don’t want to turn your face, scared to look towards the foot of the bed in case you find the intruder standing there. But you gesture, for Javi’s sake, trying to explain what has you hyperventilating in his arms. “I dreamt there was someone there.”

His arms tighten, holding you close, and you feel him shift as he turns his head to look around the room. “It was just a nightmare,” he tells you, and you nod against his chest. “But let me check, okay? Just so we can be sure.”

It’s—silly, you want to tell him, you’re a grown adult and you know intellectually it was just a dream, but. He’s pulling away slowly, tipping his head down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. He kisses your cheek and then your mouth, softly, and tilts your face so you can meet his eyes. He doesn’t look pitying. He looks serious and calm, deep brown eyes assuring you so you finally feel your breath start to ease.

“Okay?” he says again. “You stay here.”

You nod and watch him get up, his naked figure barely lit in the dim moonlight shining through the curtains. He runs a hand through his hair, scrubbing roughly. You recognize the gesture from his morning routine and realize he’s waking himself up; you glance at the clock and see it’s just past 3 AM, and you feel guilty and grateful.

He opens the bedside table drawer and withdraws his firearm and you think maybe you’ll be able to laugh about this later, at his willingness to shoot your bogeyman, but for now the gesture brings you comfort and you continue to track his movements as he makes his way around the bedroom, checking under the bed and in the closet to clear the room entirely before he moves out into the hall.

The traces of leftover adrenaline are still buzzing through your body so you keep your eyes on the doorway and strain your ears to hear his quiet footsteps as he makes his way methodically through the apartment. You hear another doorway open—the hallway closet—and this time you do let yourself laugh a little, just quietly gratified by the lengths he’ll go to hunt your ghosts for you.

Eventually he reappears with his gun at his side and a glass of water in his other hand. “All clear,” he tells you. He hands you the water and you take a drink while you watch him check the safety on the gun before he puts it away.

“Thanks,” you say quietly. He watches you with appraising eyes and climbs back into bed and steals a sip of water from your glass before handing it back to you and wrapping his strong arm around your shoulders and drawing you close to his chest.

“I checked every room,” he murmurs. “There’s nobody here but you and me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” you say again, and you feel a tightness in your throat again, stuck with an emotion other than fear this time. You turn your body in toward his, reaching across to set down your glass, and cuddle as close as you can, feeling the security of his arms closing around you.

“I promise,” he whispers, and you smile and press a kiss to his chest, taking a steady breath as you feel your body finally go calm.


End file.
